


The Hour (Sabrina AU) - La Vie En Rose

by Samstown4077



Series: Randall Brown / Bel Rowley Collection [5]
Category: Peter Capaldi fandom, Sabrina (1954), Sabrina (1995), The Hour (TV)
Genre: AU, Bel looks way too beautiful for both brothers, F/M, Fluff, Hector is engaged, Older Man/Younger Woman, Randall is a serious buisnessman, Randall needs to make sure this won't change, Romance, Sabrina AU, fairytale AU, fluffbomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-07 05:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21453022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: Bel Rowley is the chauffer's daughter, being in love all her life with Hector Madden, youngest son and a playboy, of a very rich family who owns the newspaper "The Hour". It takes two years in Paris, transforming her from invisible to a grown-up woman make Hector finally notice her. And then there is the older brother, Randall Brown, leading the company, having also a word in this, as Hector is supposed to marry Marnie, the daughter of the second biggest newspaper in the country. When Hector is about to fall in love with Bel, he is risking Randall's plan to merge both papers. Unaware his involvement will not only risk the happiness of Bel and Hector, but also his own. - Sabrina AU
Relationships: Randall Brown/Bel Rowley
Series: Randall Brown / Bel Rowley Collection [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/808311
Comments: 19
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be honest, this is not an original story, this is a retelling of the 1954 and 1995 movie "Sabrina". Weaving both movies and the tv-show The Hour with the main characters to one new piece, I tried to give justice to the movies and the show. It's not necessarily important to have watched Sabrina, you'll get the storyline throughout reading this one. In case you have, I believe you'll have fun rediscovering scenes, phrases and the spirit of both movies. I consider this some serious fluff bomb and fairytale AU.  
As I wanted to have certain characters from The Hour appear I took some liberties and while reading I am sure you'll understand why.  
For more ramblings of why I wrote this story and so on, I will add some finale End-Notes after posting the last chapter. For everyone caring about such insight, you are welcome to read it then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the movie starts way before, I start with Bel having returned from Paris already.

“I met a girl, and this time I think it could be serious,” Hector announced suddenly.

Randall only hummed. He was brooding over some company papers while sitting at his desk. Not giving his younger brother much of an attention, “not a disadvantage, you’ll marry her.”

It had been quite a coup, even for Randall’s high qualities and cleverness. Soon Hector about to marry Marnie Redborough, the daughter of Thomas Redborough, owner of the second-largest newspaper in all England — The Hour being number one. The marriage was some sort of premise for merging both papers, making them all very, very rich. 

Of course, it was almost entirely arranged, but Marnie was head over heels with Hector, and Hector just needed a bit of a push in the right direction. 

“Maybe I do,” Hector said then, what made Randall hum once again, before realising something was not right with the wording.

“Not maybe,” he placed the papers aside, “you will marry Marnie.”

Hector frowned, “Marnie? I am not talking about Marnie.”

“Who you talking about then?”

“Bel!”

“Bel?”

“Rowley! I think I am about to fall in love with her!” Hector cheered, lounging into the armchair near the little kitchenette with a fridge full of drinks in Randall’s office. Something he only had kept so guests could have a drink or two. It was easier to persuade them to sign specific papers when slightly buzzed — while Randall never drank. 

Randall rose from behind his desk, “you are engaged, to Marnie! The marriage is in three weeks!”

The younger dismissed it with a wave of his hand. Yeah, he had been angry about Randall arranging a marriage behind his back, what was very middle age like, but on the other hand, Marnie wasn’t the worst choice. She was smart and stunning, but then again…, “I didn’t even propose to her.”

“I did,” Randall shrugged, coming around the desk, leaning against the front side, “I asked her father, he said yes. Wedding bells!”

Getting out of the chair again, Hector went steering himself a drink, “This is not how it goes, Randall.”

“How  _ does  _ it go, brother mine?” Randall watched him drink. “You; asking the next best girl for her hand. Marry her only to remember a few days later, there is another girl who deserves more of your attention?”

“It’s not my fault; they’re all that beautiful.”

“Your last marriage cost us 25.000 pounds, so the girl would not make a fuss, and the one before, you decided it was a clever idea to take her last name.”

“It’s the 20th century, Randall, get over it,” he drank another glass of Martini. “Brown is such a generic name. I think I made quite a deal with “Madden”. And she was pretty! “

Randall rubbed his forehead with one hand, “Christ, Hector! I am glad father isn’t here, he would have a heart attack once again, because of you.”

“Father had a heart attack because of his drinking and eating habits; you know that,” Hector placed the glass away, trying to find something to eat in the closet. “Well, I might have been the reason for like 5 %,” he found some chocolate and was happy. 

“Get your head off Bel!” Randall warned knowing his brother would do anything but that.

“I invited her to the garden party, tonight,” Hector then strolled away, “just you know!” and left the office. 

That wasn’t good in any terms, Randall thought, still leaning against the desk. He knew his brother well. In the faintest, he could almost understand his motives. 

Bel Rowley was exactly Hector’s type. Young, beautiful, smart, but sadly not from high rank. Her father George Rowley, the chauffeur, living above the garage in a little flat with her forever since. She always had been around, finding interest in the newspaper, and so one day she had started an internship. She had gone through every department, working hard, and because of that, she had left to Paris, to a partner office, learning even more. When she returned, she had grown up. Had turned from an ugly duckling into something Hector finally noticed. A classy girl, ready to be conquered. 

Randall knew well; this conquering would last only a couple of months, then another girl would come by to turn Hectors head once more. Bel being the victim and most of all, when he would not marry Marnie, a ton of money would also be the victim. Randall turned and pressed a button on his desk, “Sissy, get me Miss Storm.” 

“Yes, Sir, Miss Storm,” his secretary announced. 

Maybe Lix could talk sense into his brother, not that it had worked with him — the sense talking, but Hector was something else. For some reason, from time to time, Lix was quite a skilled counsellor, not that he paid her for it, as he paid her for other work. The counselling was just something she did because they all knew each other for about 20 years, and had managed aside all drama, all differences to stay friends. An absence of 15 years by her to travel the world and the conflicts it bared, helped too obviously. After the travelling had become too hideous for her, she had come back to London, knocking at his door to say hello. Never in the world, she would have asked him for a job, so he had given her the foreign desk without further small talk, paying her queenly. Why? Because she was brilliant and because he needed her, let alone he felt accountable. 

For sure Lix had some wise words in store for him. 

“What is it now?” Lix entered his office without even knocking. Sissy hadn’t had the chance to announce her over the intercom, but Lix knew, when there was someone who could overstep certain boundaries, it was her. History with Randall had given her some rights at the end. “What did your brother do this time?”

Randall inhaled, “How do you always know it’s about Hector?”

“It’s always about Hector,” Lix answered without missing a beat, reaching for the cigarette etui on Randall’s desk, “It’s either about the Newspaper or Hector. Nothing is happening in the world, so you didn’t call me because of my function as Foreign desk, so it must be about Hector.”

Clever her, “it’s about him  _ and  _ the Newspaper.”

“Sounds disastrous,” she turned to the fridge as Hector had done before. Randall thought about taking the alcohol away equipping it with only soda, just for the sake of them pulling faces about it. “What has the boy done now? The marriage is in three weeks. I mean, what possibly go wrong?”

“Bel Rowley,” Randall said.

“Bel?” She had worked closely with her before she had left for Paris. They had become friends. “What’s with her?”

“Hector says he loves her,” he joined Lix and poured himself some water into a glass. 

“I know it’s not a joke because I know Hector as long as I know you, but still,” she dragged from her cigarette, “tell me it’s a joke.”

“You know I don’t make jokes,” Randall admitted. 

“I knew it,” Lix began walking up and down in front of Randall, “I damn well knew it, the moment she came back from Paris.”

“How?”

“Have you ever looked at her?” Randall frowned, shrugging with the glass in hand. “Of course, you haven’t! When she left, she wasn’t exactly an ugly duckling but… now, she made something out of her. Of course, Hector would notice her now! Worst is, she is still in love with your brother.”

“What do you mean, still?”

Lix stopped, “Honestly, Randall? Have you nothing but the newspaper, contracts and profit and loss forecasts in your head?”

“It’s the daughter of our chauffeur; it’s not like it is… important,” he grunted.

“She is in love with him since she was eight years old,” Lix explained then, doubting any human ability of Randall. “I was glad she went to Paris, hoping she would forget him, find someone better, but I bet nothing has changed.”

Randall lighted a cigarette, thinking it through, “Whatever. Hector will marry Marnie. I won’t let him ruin this deal.”

“I am not sure if I want to know how you are going to do it,” she emptied her glass and placed it beside the one Hector had left. “Promise me you won’t let him hurt Bel, she is a friend.”

“You know I don’t make promises either,” Randall said way too quickly. 

Lix shot him a stern look, “for the sake of our past, Randall Brown, you are going to promise me.”

He knew she would use their past against him, she rarely, but when necessary always did, “Yes. I do.”

Regarding him another second, only to make sure he meant it, she nodded then and went to the exit, only to stop once more. Turning on her heels, she wondered, “Sure he is not adopted?” she knew she was way too amused about her comment.

Randall pondered, “No, I checked.”

Lix chuckled, “maybe it’s you who’s been adopted.”

He threw her smoulder, “I checked also.”

“Boys always will be boys,” she said to herself before she left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I value your opinions and comments! Stay tuned for more chapters!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening of the dinner party. Hector tries to get his chance and Randall tries to prevent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the TV Show only Bel's mother is mentioned, so I invented a father as I needed him so this story could work.

The next day was a Sunday and the mansion, where Randall, Hector, their parents and all their staff lived, located 45 Minute outside of London, was prepared for the evening party. Tons of flowers. A music band. Another ton of food and even the weather was foreshadowing no rain at all, for the annual Dinner Party, the Brown’s gave every summer. 

  
Randall didn’t like those parties, but it was a necessity, and at the end of the year he’d set it off against tax liability as some formation expenses. He had hired some very talented tax adviser who even set Hector off at the end of the year. 

  
It was also the time of the year, where Hector used to go on another hunt for a pretty girl. A dance, some flirtatious words, an arranged meeting in the winter garden, a bottle of champagne, one thing followed by another.

And the next morning he usually would announce an engagement. It was a bit like Christmas, it happened every year and still surprised everyone. In Randall’s eyes, Hector’s falling in love regularly was way too expensive and nerve-wracking. That’s why he had arranged the marriage with Marnie - to put an end to his affairs. The woman had made the impression to be independent enough to have Hector in check. His brother was usually one of those who always wanted what he couldn’t have. Marnie liked and cared about Hector, but she was damn well aware, she didn’t need him to get on in life.   
While the last preparations in the garden came to an end, Bel prepped herself in her apartment above the garage. Paris had offered her to broaden not only her mind but also beautiful dresses and a new sense of ‘how to dress’. 

  
“How do I look?” Bel turned once again in front of her father, showing off the new dress she had brought from Paris. 

  
George Rowley sat on the edge of her bed, watching his daughter smile and shine, though he couldn’t share her excitement, “You look very nice, Bel.”

  
She sensed his unhappiness, “Oh, what is it? Are you not happy for me? Me, finally officially invited to the infamous Brown’s dinner party?”

  
He remembered the past years, when she had chosen to sit in a tree, watching the high society dance and have fun. Mainly watching Hector Madden dance with another girl, while wishing it was herself, “And you know why.”  
“Hector asked me to come; this should make you happy,” she went to the mirror to check her hair.

  
“I am… but,” he sighed. “Haven’t you heard, Hector is engaged!”

  
“Engaged doesn’t mean married yet, father!” she turned her head from left to right, watching her father then in the mirror. “You still think that our place is not there in the garden having champagne and snacks, but in the staff kitchen.”

  
George rose, “I am not sure where your place in the world is, but it’s not over there!”

  
“You disapprove of Hector?”

  
“I disapprove of my daughter getting heartbroken!” he went taking her hands in his. “But I let you go. I never disapproved of anything; you know that. I won’t stop you.”

  
She smiled gently at him, kissing him on the cheek, “I know. I won’t get hurt, I promise.”

  
George gave another sigh, watching her leave the little apartment, that was right beside his over the garage, “Oh, Bel. That’s easily said.” She was already away.  
  
Randall was busy with Thomas Redborough, and a few attorneys and work colleagues talking about the upcoming merger also attended by his father. Randall had taken over the company 15 years ago, having let the company into a bright future. His father only being round because it was too much for him to be around his wife who bullied him into quitting drinking and smoking cigars. 

  
“Where is Hector?” he asked at some point, looking out the windows to watch the party be in full swing.

  
“I haven’t seen him, father,” Randall motioned Sissy over. “Hector?”

  
“I saw him earlier, with Miss Redborough,” Sissy told. “Then, I lost sight. Shall I find him?”

  
“Yes, please,” he ordered, worried Hector was already busy with Bel, but he hadn’t seen her either, so she was maybe not around yet.

  
“Is it true?” his father turned then toward him. “Hector flirting with… what’s her name?”

  
“Bel.”

  
“Bel? What kind of name is that?” he puffed exaggerated from his cigar. 

  
Randall’s one eyebrow went up, “I think it is the short form for Isobel.”

  
His dad turned astonished toward him, “How do you know that?”

  
“Her father is driving me to town, six days a week, for the past 15 years,” Randall couldn’t help but lecture his father, “he probably has mentioned it. Anyway, what do you expect he calls his daughter? General Motors?”

  
The older tsked at him, “oh, stop it with me!”

  
Randall smirked then, “it is true. Hector is going astray once more, but I’ll plan to stop him from being stupid once more.”

  
“How?”

  
Looking at the party, and also a reflection of his own in the glass, he pursed his lips, correcting the seat of his glasses, “I have no idea.” He saw Bel Rowley in the distance, coming up the small stone stairs toward the dance area. Seeing her and her dress, he definitely had to get to Hector before he got to Bel in the winter garden. 

  
The way all the other men turned their heads by her appearance, it was only a matter of time till Hector would propose once again.   
  
##  
  
“Bel!” it was Lix having seen Bel from across the dance area, hurry over. “My God, where did you find that dress?”  
Bel blushed, reaching out to give her friend a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “In Paris of course, where they say, God is living.”  
They both laughed about it. While so, Lix got joined by a young man, with black hair, wearing a tux.  
“May I introduce you,” Lix pointed at the man, “Freddy Lion.”  
“Hello!” Freddy greeted Bel, shaking her hand, and then kissing Lix on the cheek, giving her a glass of champagne, and offering Bel the other. “Miss Rowley, I have heard so much about you.”  
“I can only give the compliment back, Mister Lyon,” Lix had written her to Paris, telling her about her much younger boyfriend. “How is Undercover going? I hear it’s quite popular.”  
“Not as popular as The Hour, but we are working on that already,” he retorted with a boyish grin. “I am trying to persuade Lix to switch over, but … what can I say.”  
Lix chuckled, “I still don’t see the necessity for a foreign desk in a boulevard magazine, love.”  
“She has a point, Mister Lyon,” Bel agreed.   
Freddy blushed, leaning forward, to say in a conspiratorial tone, “Still, I won’t give up on it. Will you excuse me, I am short for a drink, and I guess you two need some time to pick up on the past. It was nice meeting you finally, Miss Rowley. In case you ever leave the Hour, you know where to find me.”  
He made his goodbyes and left Lix and Bel to themselves.  
“I like him,” Bel admitted.   
“I like him too,” Lix smirked, visibly happy she had the understanding of her friend. “And you?”  
“Me?”  
“I’ve heard already, Hector is all over you,” Lix looked around trying to find the man in the mass of people, but couldn’t.   
“It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Bel answered, not sure yet what her friend’s opinion was on the situation.   
“No, it’s not,” Lix grabbed her arm, shuffling with her to the side of the dance floor, “but you think it’s a clever idea? Hector is… oh, you know.”  
Bel knew her friend was only worried, she never would step in her way or be angry for doing what she was doing, “It was Hector picking me up at the train station. It was Hector making overtures, so why not take a chance?”  
“Be careful, will you?”  
“I will,” Bel smiled and saw Hector stand across the place. Lix saw too and went to find Freddy.  
When Hector saw Bel, all the other people vanished in his view. Placing his drink away, he walked over to her, regarding her with wide-open eyes, “Bel Rowley, the most beautiful girl of the night. My gosh!”  
“Do you like what you see?” she teased.  
“I adore it!” he chuckled and reached for her hand. “Dance?”  
While Hector was only concentrating on her, Bel was well aware of all the people. All the eyes would be directed at her, “now?”  
“It makes no sense to dance when the music has stopped, so…,” he took her hand and pulled her with him.   
  
  
Bel had returned from Paris, waiting at the train station for her father, and Hector had come along with his car. He had no clue about who she was, and so she had taken the liberty for playing a bit of game with him, while he drove her home. When it came to women, Hector was all too simple, but she was sure deep inside he had much to give.   
She hadn’t told him who she was till they had reached Brown’s manor, and Hector was quite baffled when Randall walked by, greeting Bel, welcoming her back.  
“How has Paris been, Bel?” he had asked.  
“Bel?” The revelation had blown Hector.   
“Wonderful, thanks for asking,” she laughed at Hector’s reaction.  
“Bel? Bel!” then the penny finally dropped. “What a pleasant surprise. “Good I asked you to go out for a drink before, how about we take the drink tomorrow evening, there is a party — I am sure you know.”  
“You inviting me? Are you sure?”  
“I’ve never been surer in my life!”   
  
  
“Where have you been all my life?” Hector asked, swaying with her over the dance floor.  
“In that tree over there,” she said dryly, and Hector laughed. “Watching you dance with a different woman every year.”  
“That’s not something to grant me with, I guess,” he was well aware of what kind of man he was.   
“No, not really,” Bel agreed. “But sitting in a tree isn’t either.”  
“Maybe we should start anew, from the beginning, or at least the middle, how about that?” Hector suggested, making her spin around herself before taking her into his arms again. The gap way smaller as before. “I’d love to know everything about you.”  
“I am just a girl living above your garage.”  
“Let’s get away from here, have a little privacy,” Hector stopped dancing. “You tell me about Paris, and I bring champagne.”  
“The winter garden,” Bel concluded to Hector’s surprise. “Because it is always the winter garden. You’ll tell the band to play ‘As Time Goes By’, and we dance.”  
“The view from the tree must have been exceptional,” Hector breathed into her ear. “Meet me there. You go, I’ll follow!”  
  
Randall had watched them dance all the while from the safety of the fireplace room. His father bobbing up and down, nervously beside him.  
“This is Bel? I wouldn’t have recognized!”  
“It’s the haircut,” Randall didn’t deign to look at him, afraid he would miss Hector’s approach on Bel to go to the winter garden.   
“You have to do something, Randall,” his father pressed. “Or I will!”  
“What do you want to do, storm outside and make a scene as some headless chicken would? Don’t worry; I am sure she is like a sister to him,” he needed his father to keep his mood down.   
“I have a sister; I am surely not dancing with her as he does with Bel!” he scoffed and turned away from the drama that was unfolding.   
Randall let him go without comment, watching Hector ask Bel to meet him in the winter garden. This was the moment he had to intervene. Watching him take two champagne glasses, shoving them into the back pocket of his trousers, and then grab a bottle, Randall knew precisely what to do next.   
  
“You have a minute?” Randall grabbed for Hector’s arm, pulling him toward the inside.  
“To be honest, no,” he tried to go the other way, but the grip was too hard, “I am busy.”  
“Dad is outraged!”  
Hector stopped his effort to get away, “Why? Did you remind him of his high blood pressure? Not want to have a funeral coming up now.”  
“He knows about your actions with Bel,” Randall leat him inside.  
“Funny, because I didn’t go to any action yet,” Hector placed the bottle of champagne from one hand into the other. “Because you are stopping me!”  
“Do you mean it then? With her? Is this serious?”  
Hector regarded his brother, “Yes.”  
“I mean; is it serious this time?”  
“Why you are asking?”  
“To know if it is worth helping you,” Randall came a little closer.   
Hector placed the bottle on a small table nearby, “What do you mean, helping me?”  
“I am willing to help you and... Bel, but I need to know if you mean it for real this time,” Randall said, motioning him over to a couple of armchairs.   
Hector didn’t know how to react “and Marnie?”  
“Why you don’t sit down, and we talk about it?” he offered him a seat.  
“Yeah,” he was close to sitting down. Still, then he remembered something again, “listen, actually, can we talk about this later. Bel is waiting.”  
Then their father burst into the room, and Randall couldn’t make out if this were staged by himself or luck, “You! You are not my son anymore!”  
“Dad!” Hector almost fell backwards into the chair. “Mind your blood pressure!”  
“Father, please,” Randall tried to calm him down. “I was just about to talk to him about it all.”  
“There is nothing to talk about it,” he looked angry at first at Randall then at Hector. “You will marry Marnie Redborough!”  
Hector was about to protest, and Randall feared he would get away, so he grabbed him by the shoulders, “Sit down, will you. And you,” he turned to his father, “will keep the volume down! We will talk about it like civilized men.”  
A moment of silence arose, and then the two nodded, “fine,” they said in unison, and Hector finally sat down.   
A silent scream escaped him, making the breaking of the glass even more audible. Then Hector stiffened his body, trying to get his bottom away from the seating area, howling now.  
“What? What is it?” their father wanted to know.  
“The champagne glasses, I am sitting on the champagne glasses!” Hector stiffened more, trying to suppress the pain.  
“Dad, go get Doctor Smith, I am sure he is in the lounge,” he waited till his father was out of sight, “we get a Doctor, don’t worry.”  
“Bel! She is waiting for me in the winter garden!” Hector groaned.   
God, Randall thought, his brother was so easy to foresee, “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”  
“You? You will scare her away!”  
Randall turned, having grabbed the champagne bottle already, “Trust me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware, this story plays of course in 1956, similar to the original movie with Bogart/Hepburn/Holden, but to put justice to the character of Bel/Randall/Hector I also keep it a bit more modern as in the remake with Ford/Ormond/Kinnear. Also, I consider Bel a very strong woman, but as I tell a certain AU she is probably more naive as one is used to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel expects Hector in the winter garden, but someone else is sent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a fairly short chapter, but I thought this scene deserves its own.

The winter garden. The place she had always dreamed of. How often had Bel watched Hector bring one of those stupidity snickering girls here, dance with them, kiss them? How often had she hoped it would be her. Way too often. And now, today, finally, it would be her.

God, her heart was about to burst out of her chest, so excited she was, half dancing, half walking around the place. Fancy flowers standing in all corners in the middle a little water fountain. She could hear the band play, knowing Hector had told them earlier to play a romantic piece.

She was just about to smell a few flowers when she heard the door go open. Without turning yet, she placed her hand against her heart, smiling, “you’re are late!” she turned, her smile changing into a confused expression. “Randall?”

“Bel,” he stopped in front of her, regarding her dress once again from the close, “you look very lovely tonight.”

Still confused by the situation she looked down at herself, “Thank you, but… I expected Hector.”

“I thought so,” he smiled apologetically, “I am sorry, Hector had a little accident.”

“Accident!”

“Nothing serious,” he stepped in her way, holding up the champagne for a moment, “he sent me instead.”

Without asking, he began to pour some champagne into one glass, holding it out to her. Randall Brown was a man who usually always got what he wanted because Bel sensed he wouldn’t let her getaway. Not yet. “Did he?”

“He is honestly sorry he can’t make it,” he waited till she took the glass from him and placed the rest onto a nearby table. 

Bel decided to sip from the champagne, knowing she didn’t look thrilled. 

“You are disappointed,” Randall stepped closer. 

“Well,” she gave him an excusing smile, and Randall nodded. 

“I bet you had this all planned out, didn’t you?” he came straight to the point. 

It made her laugh, what made Randall rose an eyebrow, “I am sorry, Randall, but isn’t that the sentence I should say to you? I bet  _ you _ have this all planned out?”

“I am not sure if I can follow?” maybe he had underestimated Bel.

“Did your mother read bedtime stories to you?” she made a gesture telling him he should bare with her. 

“I suppose she did.”

“The story about the maiden, falling in love with the young prince, and the prince falling for her. Of course, there was the evil minister who was against such marriage. No, the prince better marries someone from a higher rank, because it is more … economic,” Randall had watched Bel walk over to the fountain, knowing by now where this would go, and smirked to himself, letting her carry on, “so the minister goes to the maid, offering ten-thousand Kronen when she would let go of the prince.”

“What does the maid say?” Randall had stepped behind her.

“No, she says.”

“Fifteen-thousand Kronen?”

“No.”

“Twenty-five then!” 

“Twenty-five?” Bel didn’t look at him.

“Twenty-five-thousand pounds,” he specified.

Bel gave it a silent laugh, slightly turning her head, “The story was talking about Kronen.”

“I made it Pounds because there is nothing you can buy with Kronen these days, Bel. No self-respecting evil minister would offer Kronen,” he shoved his hands into his pockets, waiting for Bel to turn around, “So what do you say?”

“What I say?” she watched him over before waltzing away for a few meters, looking over her shoulders saying; “No self-respecting maid would take pounds.”

He couldn’t help but agree with her.

“The evil minister, that’s me then?” he inquired.

She turned swiftly, her dress doing a cute little swoosh, “Tell me! Because when you came in, I was sure you were sent to deal with me -- pay me off.”

Indeed, he had underestimated her, “let me make a wild assumption about this bedtime story, about how it ends in your version. The prince and the maid run away together. Living happily ever after.”

“You don’t like that version, do you?”

“I didn’t say that,” Randall went to offer her another glass of champagne, but she declined. “Though the prince seems in quite some state. He has forgotten he is engaged. He wants you.”

“I’ve been in love with him all my life. I used to watch him take all kinds of girls here. Promising them, God knows what. I knew one day it would be me.”

“You are not stupid, Bel. Quite clever, hard-working, I only heard the best of you of any department you’ve been working in the past,” Randall now sounded severe, all business-like as it was his natural state. “You know Hector most of his life, you said it yourself, he brought quite a few women here, promising them things he didn’t keep up to in the end. So tell me, what makes you think he’ll keep the promises to you?”

“Randall,” she walked over to one of the windows looking over to the dance floor, where the couples danced so very close, “I know you don’t have a high opinion of your brother. A ladies man, a happy-go-lucky sort of fellow. For no good use at The Hour. And I know you only see me as the daughter of the chauffeur, the stupid girl waiting for her prince.”

“I never -” 

“- Don’t Randall, you would only hurt my feelings then.”

He had walked up beside her, peering down at her while she glanced up at him, “Go on then.” 

“Deep down, a woman knows, Randall,” she ended. “That’s why I believe he’ll keep his promise.”

And then the orchestra played the song Hector asked them to play. Bel sighed, “That’s the song he usually let’s play. ‘As Time Goes By’.”

“So, that’s why I had to listen to this impossible song every summer,” he quipped. To his attention, Bel laughed about his joke. He hesitated a second and then reached for her glass, “I am genuinely sorry, he can’t have this dance with you tonight, but how about me,” he placed the glass on a little table, reaching for her hand then, “It’s all in the family.”

Slowly Bel stepped up to him, letting him take her hand in his, and letting his other come around her waist. It was true, she preferably wanted to have this dance with Hector. Surely she would have her dance one night, now she decided it to be impolite to refuse Randall’s offer — he wasn’t a bad person at all, just different. 

Gently he swayed with her into the middle of the room, and to both their surprise Bel relaxed into his touch. Even letting him close the gap between them. Her face on his shoulder, his mouth by her ear. 

“I didn’t think you could dance.”

“Why? Because you never saw me dance?” he thought about it. “Understandable.” 

“You had dancing lessons, hadn’t you? When you were eight.” 

Randall leaned away from her sharing his surprised expression, “How do you know?” 

Bel smiled, “because Hector had some when he was eight,” she cocked an eyebrow at him, “I was his homework.” 

“Ah!” Randall closed the gap again, keeping silent then. He rarely danced because he wanted to. Usually spent those dinner parties with business talk, smoking cigars over contracts and discussing plans for the newspaper. Here and there he had to dance, mostly with a wife of someone he needed to convince to some expensive deal — good wives always had their men in hand. 

This, with Bel, wasn’t much of a difference. He needed her to be away from Hector. Also, there was maybe not a real reason to dance with her, was there? He couldn’t tell, he not wanted to, because somehow this felt kind of pleasant. 

The song ended, and they parted, but only slightly. Bel looked at him with eyes wide and a bit drowsy. Maybe it was the sip of champagne. Or perhaps it was the dance that had gotten to her head, but when she stared into Randall’s green eyes, she felt a bit intoxicated by the moment. Remembering Hector, she whispered, “That be the moment he’d kiss me.”

The girl was so head over heels at that moment — for Hector, not for him, Randall knew that. And he had to admit his stomach felt a bit fuzzy too, that probably was the reason Randall leaned in to kiss her, “It’s all in the family.” Her warm lips against his, let the fuzzy feeling spread inside of him.

It wasn’t as if he urged her, she knew Randall long enough, to know he was polite and never had heard of someone he had treated poorly or unfair. If she had stopped him, he had not moved forward, but she didn’t because she was taken by surprise and taken by the moment. Surely somewhere he knew about his advantage. Randall Brown was, in her opinion, not someone who acted lightheaded as Hector did.

A light kiss, like in one of those old romantic movies she used to watch when being younger -- dreaming of being kissed by Hector that way. Now it was Randall, and it was a pleasant feeling tingling inside of her. It’s all in the family, she thought, and then woke up from her deluded state. 

“No!” quickly she separated from his lips, placing her hand on his chest, embarrassed. For a second she considered to slap him. “We shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t!” With that, she stepped away, around him, hurrying to the exit.

Randall needed a moment to get a grip again. He had kissed Bel, and he knew he shouldn’t have. Quickly he turned, making a couple of long strides into her direction, catching her hand just when she was about to leave through the door, “Bel!” 

With an expression he couldn’t understand — eyes almost double the usual size — she stared at him in a mix of shock, drama and heartache. 

“I am sorry,” he breathed hard, “it was unforgiving.” 

Before answering, she looked down at his hand around her wrist, and he quickly let go, “It was.” 

If she had slapped him, he wouldn’t have been surprised, “You can see Hector tomorrow, why don’t you come by in the morning,” Randall licked his lips, “I am sure he’d loved to see you.” 

Bel hesitated, but then accepted his peace offer and nodded, “I will. Good night, Randall.” 

“Good night, Miss Rowley.”

For a moment he thought he should follow her, but then Randall knew there was nothing more to say, so he kept standing by the door. She passed by Lix, who had come around a corner, almost bumping into the younger. A quick exchange of words and Bel was gone while Lix trailed with her eyes along the way Bel had come, finding Randall.

They met halfway, and Randall pulled out his cigarettes, “Miss Storm, what a pleasant surprise to meet you?”

She laughed, taking the offered case from him, “You’ve never been a good liar, Mister Brown. Tell me, maybe I am mistaken, but usually it is Hector in the winter garden and not you. Or have you stepped up your own game?”

It was always hard to ignore the way Lix tried her banter with him. Hard to ignore it, even harder not to indulge. “Hector had a little accident.”

“Had he?”

“He sat onto his champagne glasses,” Randall explained without big emotion.

“Outch,” Lix gave it a grimace and then put one and one together. “So, you went instead. To do what? Scare her off, because she didn’t look delighted.”

“When you expect someone else, and I come along, you wouldn’t be happy too, so what she is supposed to act like, huh?”

She bumped her elbow against his arm, “What did you do?”

“I just danced with her!” he rose both his hands, his voice exaggerating his played innocence. There was no need to tell Lix about the kiss, a private matter in the end.

“Say no more! When I found out you could dance, I was shocked by all the same!”

Aside it made him cackle a bit Randall had enough with the back and forth, and decided it was time to lead Lix to another topic, “Where is your atrocious boyfriend Freddy Lion by the way? The posh boy from ‘Uncovered’.” 

Freddy was the son of Gareth Lion, owner of the boulevard magazine Uncovered. Way too popular in Randall’s opinion. Lix had met him last summer, at the same spot. Vividly he remembered her dancing with him all night long. 

With raised eyebrows, she regarded him, “Are you jealous?”

Randall turned to her, one hand in his trouser pockets, “Would that make you happy?”

Lix looked longer as necessary at Randall, thinking if she should go that line and then declined, “He is getting drinks.”

Randall scoffed, “Can’t get why you date the competition.”

“Oh, shut it,” Lix flicked the stub away into the bushes, having enough of him. “I bet if he were a girl, you would have made Hector marry him, wouldn’t you?”

His eyebrows came up, about to get hooked with an idea, “Now you say it, I have to check if Hector would look nice in a dress.”

“You are reckless,” she only commented.

“Always have been,” he looked at her long then, knowing she would make her goodbyes soon, but he wasn’t ready to let her go.

“What is it?” Lix had looked out for Freddy, turning around feeling Randall’s eyes on her. “Still jealous?”

“Let me ask you a question before I answer. Are you happy? With him?”

For Randall, this was a hell of a strange question.

“I am.”

“Therefore I never could be jealous,” he leaned in giving her a kiss on the check. “Have a lovely evening, Miss Storm. And happy anniversary.” 

“Randall,” she stopped him from strolling away, “Remember; you promised.”

He tapped his forehead with two fingers as if saluting and went his way.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit I am not sure if I am able to give justice to both movies and the show characters, but I don't have such a bad feeling about it. Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Randall has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you believe one moment, you ever read a story by me without a Doctor Who quote! ;)

“Can’t you give him something? For sleep and the pain. I know him all too well, Doctor, he won’t stay in bed, and the wounds will never heal.” 

The Doctor eyed Randall suspiciously for a moment, finding the request slightly off but then again the Doctor knew Hector since being a young boy, so he agreed. 

When Bel arrived in the room an hour later, Hector was half asleep half babbling senseless syllables. 

To Randall’s surprise, the man was still able to recognise Bel, “Dear love!” 

“Hector!” Bel sat aside the bed, covering her hand with his. “How are you?” 

The question made him giggle almost unnatural, and Bel and Randall exchanged wondering glances. 

“I am great, great as… a pineapple in southern Manhattan!” then he giggled again. 

Bel turned to Randall, “he is high, isn’t he?” 

There was no need to deny it, “High as a kite. The medics against the pain were probably a bit much. I am sorry he isn’t in any better condition, Bel.” 

Hector had fallen asleep by then, and Bel gave him a last look, her lips pressed tight together, “As long as he will be back to his feet soon.” 

“The Doctor says, he might be able to remove the stitches by the end of the week,” Randall led her outside. 

“I knew the trick with the champagne glasses would go wrong one day. I had hoped it wouldn’t be with me.”

Randall chuckled, “I am sure there is a lesson learned… somewhere. May I ask when you plan to go back to the office?” 

Bel grew wary for a second only to remember that Randall was her boss, “to be honest I hadn’t planned to return till the end of next week. I am still officially on vacation, but when you need a hand…” 

“I do, but not in the office,” he pursed his lips, thinking about how to approach the topic. He needed her away from Hector. Apart from all the preparations for the marriage. Marnie was coming and going too, and it was the best they didn’t meet. “There are a couple of buildings I have to visit, in Kensington and Notting Hill.”

“Are you in real estate now?” she wondered. 

“No, we are looking for a suitable building for another office. I plan to make a spin-off for… how shall I say? For readers more interested in politics national and offshore, willing to pay extra.” 

“Ah, I see,” an idea she could relate to, “not the worst idea.” 

“Anyway, I might need a second opinion,” he brought her back to the original topic.

“Mine?”

“Why not?” he asked, sensing Bel was well aware that he had others, a team of specialist for buildings and the economy around itself. “What you want to do anyway? Hector is out of order. There is nothing to do as to sit beside his bed and listening to his snoring. Rather spend the day with me, I’d value your opinion. When it helps, Hector asked me to take care of you.”

“It’s all in the family, isn’t it?” Randall blushed, touching his tie then. The gesture made Bel smile softly at him. “You are right; it’s no use to sit around here. So, yes, why not.”

That brought a happy expression to Randall’s face, “Wonderful! Let me get some files and a hat. Meet me outside?”

Randall had taken Hector’s car, an Austin Healey, with the hood down. She always had fancied Hector’s car, mainly because Hector was driving it. Seeing Randall wait for her, already the motor running, she couldn’t remember seeing him drive it before. 

“It’s strange, seeing you in the driver’s seat, to be honest,” she hopped in. “As long as I can remember, it was you in the backseat, driven by my father.”

“I can’t drive and work at the same time, though,” he admitted rather thoughtful.

“No,” she sighed. “No, indeed, you can’t.” 

To Randall, it was as if she wanted to say something more, but kept it to herself and he guessed it was better not to ask her further. So they fell into a pleasant silence. It seemed Bel enjoyed the drive, letting her hand flow in the airstream up and down and he enjoyed watching her doing so. 

“You must think I am rather silly,” she said when they arrived in London in front of a vast building all bakestone. 

Randell walked around the car, opening the door for her, “You are young, one can be a bit silly when young, but also, I never thought you were. Childish, maybe?”

“There’s no point in being grown-up if you can’t be childish sometimes,” she answered without missing a beat. Then she turned her attention to the building in front of them, “So this is it?”

Still marvelling over her words, Randall needed another glance from Bel, till he realised what she meant, “Oh, yes. The front is up for renovation, I guess.”

“No!” Bel turned to him, reaching for his arm, demanding all of his attention. “Don’t you dare!”

Her boldness overran him almost, “And why I shouldn’t dare, Miss Rowley?” His tone sounded more severe as he had intended and embarrassed Bel. He could tell as she was rereleasing his arm, quickly Randall made a mental note to tune his business owed harshness down a bit. 

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that. What I meant,” she pointed at the building, with an expression as about to fall in love with it at any moment, “in Paris a lot of buildings are made of brick. They’d consider that brand-new. Making the front would make it look like all the others, leaving it like that would be …”

“Would it be what?” Randall asked softly.

“It would be a wise decision,” she shrugged unsure if it really would be so wise. In the end, she wasn’t an architect. “At least everyone would recognise it as The Hour.”

Randall looked at the building again, humming. Admittingly, under usual circumstances, he never would be out here. He would have ordered someone to take a couple of pictures and show him in the office. There had been a couple of appointments he had phoned Sissy about to cancel them and push to next week because the ‘affair’ with Bel had aroused. By now, standing here, with her, looking at the old building almost through Bel’s dreamy eyes, he wasn’t angry about the postponed appointments anymore. 

“You want to go inside?”

“I’d love to!” she smiled wide, and Randall gestured to the entrance, only to tell her to wait another moment so he could hurry back to the car. Reaching into his bag, “I brought a camera, I thought about taking some pictures.”

They then entered the building, which was empty except for some old chairs and tables. Ample rooms and Randall explained that here they could have the printing press, and the rooms for the writers and editors on the next floor. 

“That sounds all very planned out, Randall,” Bel walked round in the big room, where he thought could be some offices. Across the room was a full window front and Bel stopped a couple of meters away from it. “Here,” she turned, seeing Randall’s quizzical look, “if you pull in some walls here and here, you get a nice office fitting for the Head-Editor.” 

Randall walked over, “now you say it. Would you like that?”

Bel frowned, “It’s your building; you do whatever you think fits.”

“I didn’t mean that,” he turned to her. “I mean; would you like having your office that way?”

“In case I ever have an office like this, I’d love to, but…,” it reminded her that she didn’t know how her future in the paper would look like. “Never mind.”

Sensing her lower mood, Randall reached for her arm gently, “It’s yours then.”

“What do you mean?”

“I decided this will be the building for the spin-off, and I want you to be the Head-Editor, Bel,” her eyes once more grew wide. “Please, don’t look at me like that. You are a brilliant journalist, I only take the best, and I think you are the best.”

In an urge Bel threw her arms around his neck, hugging him in pure joy, “Oh my god! Really?”

Her laughter was contagious, but her closeness -- a kind of attention he wasn’t used to -- was slightly intimidating for him. Gently he grabbed her by the shoulders, “really.” 

Who was this man, Bel wondered, feeling the warmth of his body still pressed against her chest? This wasn’t the man her father used to drive, not the man she used to notice only in her peripheral vision while swooning over Hector. Observing his features, she remembered one night, when she had been about nine years old. Her father had driven Hector and his mother into town, and a thunderstorm had erupted over Brown’s Manor. Afraid of the weather, she had left the apartment over the garage and had run inside the main house. Young Randall had then stayed with her. They didn’t talk, and he probably thought she was courageous, but she had been only more scared by him as by the rumbling thunder — a story she might remind him off one day. 

“This is an offer I can’t refuse, I guess,” her eyes darted to his lips for a moment. Then she wondered if he made the offer as another try to pay her off of Hector, but she didn’t want to be ungrateful and kept her doubts to herself. 

Randall kept quiet, only peering down at her. 

For a second, she felt like prey, so intimidating was his expression. In the next, she was sure she could look behind the curtain finding a tender spot and a lot of emotions reflecting in his eyes. 

The anticipation got too intense. With an escaping breath, half a laugh, Bel reached into his side pocket. Fishing for the camera he had carried around all the time without using it, “You haven’t taken any pictures yet.”

He felt her slip out of his gentle grip, the camera in her delicate hands, quickly pressing some settings, “I admit, I am not very good with cameras.”

Bel nodded quickly, knowing he had people do such a thing for him, then she rose the camera to her face and snapped a picture of him before he could say anything about it.

“Oh, please,” he turned slightly, “I don’t think I make a good subject.”

Smiling down to the camera, forwarding to the next frame, Bel let the camera dangle in her hand beside her, “It’s probably too dark in here anyway.”

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Randall wished he would know more about photography. He’d take a picture of her right away, not for her, only for him. What foolish thought.

“You are hungry? I think there is a little cafe down the street. My treat.”

Bel glanced at her wristwatch, about to say yes when she got reminded of something, “Is it really that late? I had told the nurse I would come by visit Hector later.”

Randall also took the time, becoming aware it was indeed late. They would need an hour to get back to the house. “Then we better get back home,” he reached for his glasses taking them off for a moment, brushing over his eyes. Suddenly he felt sick. Then he felt a hand on his forearm.

“You are right; we should eat something,” even without glasses, he could see her smile, “Hector can wait.”

“How about we grab something to go?” he then offered. 

“Marvelous!”

He went inside the cafe and asked for a couple of sandwiches to go. As it was Kensington, the request was somewhat unusual. Still, as he was Randall Brown, a millionaire, he got what he wanted. All the while, Bel took a few pictures of the house.

Then they drove back, Bel eating her sandwich, half-turned toward Randall observing. It was apparent, but he didn’t compromise, nor he minded her behaviour. 

“You want me to take care of the film developing?” 

“If you want to,” he nodded. “When do you think they are ready?”

“I could ask the mailman who usually comes by at 5 to take it into town, and I am sure they make it ready the next morning,” she explained.

“Would you mind pick it up, and bring it by?” he asked, finally reaching for a sandwich in the bag that stood between him and Bel. “I’d need them for the interior designers.”

“You are very keen on getting this spin-off started, aren’t you?”

“It’s either us or someone else stealing the idea,” he explained. “It’s a hard business, Bel.”

Bel sank into her seat, watching the landscape drift by, “Tell me, have you ever thought about something else, besides work, money and business contracts, Randall?”

The question made Randall turn his head, finding her not look at him, only after a while when he didn’t answer. It must have been his frowning, and the way the question made no sense at all to him, making her aware, she had overstepped her boundaries, “I am sorry, it’s not my right to ask this. You are a hardworking man and my remark was tactless.”

She gave him another excusing smile and then turned back to the landscape. 

Randall didn’t say anything to it. But her words didn’t leave him for the rest of the drive and echoed even on when he was already laying in his bed recalling the day.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am always so sappy thinking about those two; I don't why...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector is making promises. Randall and Bel spending the day. Promises made, begin to unravel.

The next morning Bel knew Randall was away, because her father was away too, driving him to town. She hadn’t forgotten about her promise to bring by the pictures. As they had never talked about a specific time, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to visit Hector in his sickbed. 

The day before they came in so late, she had not tried to revisit Hector. Also, there had been the feeling she had tested Randall’s patient a bit too much. 

“Bel!” Hector cheered, seeing her enter, almost jumping up, before the pain in his backside reminded him of his wounds. With a bawl out he went back hugging the pillow.

“You are still in pain?” she went over, kneeling beside him, happy he quickly reached for her hands.

“No more when I see you,” he kissed her hands eagerly, “God, I wish I could do more as just lay here, holding your hands, darling!” 

Bel blushed, “So you mean it then? You are still engaged.”

“Forget about it! The only woman I want is you, Bel!”

“Your father won’t be happy to hear about that,” Bel held his hands tight, worried.

“Forget about him too,” Hector hushed her. “We have Randall on our side, and he is the head of family decisions since my father retired.”

“Is he? On our side?” her heart told her he was, but her head telling her something else, when she had considered the circumstances the night before. “Your brother is… “

Hector placed a finger on her cheek, making her look at him, “Randall is like the first living heart donor, I know, but he can’t help but love me. I am quite sure he will be happy when I finally have run away, getting out of trouble with the newspaper,” he smirked, leaning over to kiss her gently on the lips, “He’ll pay me out, and we can have a great life somewhere.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. How about Fiji, or New York. Or we could go to Japan. Where ever you like! Why?”

“Paris?”

“Yes! Paris it is!” 

His words made her heart swell, and she gave him another quick kiss before remembering her appointment with Randall. “I promised Randall to bring over some pictures I took yesterday.”

“Did you have a nice time?”

“Yes, I think so, why?” she asked suspiciously. 

“Well, I asked him to look out for you, keep you busy till I am back on my feet again,” he explained. 

“I don’t know, Hector,” she thought about the idea, “maybe I just hang around here.”

“Don’t be silly, dear, let him give you a nice time. Remember my brother, and my family is obscenely rich,” Hector reminded her. “Let him take you to some expensive restaurants, the theatre or a sailing trip! Oh, what do I tell, let him take you to all of it!” 

It made Bel laugh, “Only when you promise me you’ll take over at the end of the week.”

Hector leaned in for another kiss, “be certain!”

Bel rose, sighing, “Fine, I won’t say no when he offers, but I certainly will not chum up.”

“Have a great time, and don’t forget me!”

Hector waited till she had left the room before he called for the butler, “Get me a phone, please.”

All phone calls reached first Sissy, and when Randall picked up hearing her announcing his brother, he guessed it was either him having picked up the nurse and in need to marry her now, or it would be about Bel, “Hector?”

“Brother mine, you have to do me a favour,” Hector began shifting uncomfortably around his bed. “Bel is on the way to your office.”

“I bet she knows where it is, while you don’t,” it was hard to give away the chance to tease his brother. “I asked her to get me some pictures she took yesterday from the building in Kensington.”

“Ask her out for dinner, or something, will you?” Hector ignored the subtle upbraids. 

“Why should I?” of course it was all playing into Randall’s favour, but it was better when Hector would believe he needed to convince him.

“Come on, be at least once a good brother, and help me out,” Hector spoke. “It’s better she is busy. Here she only will run into father, and you know about the chance our old man will get a heart attack. You won’t want that, do you?” 

“It would be a bit inconvenient at the moment, I agree,” he leaned back into his stool, pursing his lips at the thought. 

“Spoil her, will you? Dinner. Theatre. Rent one of those damn boats driving up and down the Thames,” Hector suggested.

“Sail. Boats sail, Hector. Cars, drive,” for what was his younger brother good when he didn’t even know that difference, Randall wondered.

“Whatever, Randall! Bye, and thanks,” Hector hung up before Randall would once more lecture him into a boring death. 

An hour and thirty minutes later, Bel arrived, holding an envelope in hand which contained the pictures. 

“Did they turn out fine?” he asked, gesturing her to sit at the conference table and he sat aside her.

“I haven’t checked yet,” she admitted. “So, we are maybe in for a disappointment. It’s always tricky with photography.”

Packing out the pictures she gave him the stack, the top photo was the last picture she had taken, the front of the building and it looked good. That let her relax a little.

“Seems good to me,” Randall placed the picture aside, getting to the next. Photos of the outside in different angles, followed by images of the interior to the last picture. 

“Oh,” it escaped Bel. 

Randall cocked an eyebrow, regarding it, then he handed it over to Bel, “Not too dark at all.” It was the picture of him; she had taken at the very beginning.

“No,” she looked at the photo. “It’s not a bad shot.”

“You should burn it,” Randall watched her looking at the picture. 

“Why would I?” she asked slightly in horror. 

His head tilted to the left, and he reached for the picture, “I mean, come on, is this really me?” his voice pitched slightly in a mock debate, “The world is better off without pictures of me.”

“I like it,” she said mildly. The moment she had snapped him, Randall had been surprised, and his features weren’t as hard as they often seemed. His greenish eyes, with blue features and hazel spots, held a gentle expression, and besides he looked thoughtful, it seemed he was smiling just the faintest. 

“Keep it,” Randall suggested, taking the other pictures away to his desk. “And join me for a walk in the park. Did you ever take one of the boats on the Thames?”

“No,” Bel was at a loss for words. 

Randall knew how to use her state to his advantage and pressed the button for the intercom, “Sissy, postpone my appointments for today, I am off. So come on!”

The only thing Bel could do was shove the picture he had left her into her purse, before getting taken away by Randall. He hailed a cab, that brought them to Battersea Park, from where they would be able to take a boat too.

While the drive, Randall asked Bel about her work in Paris, and she told him about some stories she had researched and published. He was impressed. 

On the other side, Bel asked him about his travels as a businessman. Willingly he told her about the United States, about taking a train in Russia and visiting Berlin shortly after the war had ended. She was impressed.

The cab let them out at the park, and Bel spotted an ice cream van immediately at the corner, “How about ice cream?” 

“I am not really into ice cream,” Randall answered blindsided. 

“Everybody is into ice cream,” she reached for his arm and tugged him along. He probably just had forgotten how good ice cream was as he was too busy to get some. “My treat!” 

When she asked him what he wanted, he was close to asking for the usual flavour, but then he shrugged, “surprise me,” and Bel let him not make this offer twice, asking for one flavour that was green and one that was blue. 

“There you go,” she held out the cone with the blue colour, earning an almost peeved look from him. 

“And what kind of flavour shall this be?” he leaned closer, trying to smell it. 

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask,” then she licked her green one, “this seems to be kiwifruit,” Randall held out his, and when she didn’t know if he indeed wanted her to taste, he came closer with it to her mouth. 

She grabbed his hand to keep the ice steady and tasted, raising her eyebrows over the taste, “Oh, you’re going to like this one.” 

“Now, I am afraid,” he said, finally liking from it. “Oh my god! This tastes like…” 

“... Like?” 

He lowered it and looked at her trying to find the word, “I have absolutely no idea.” 

It entertained her to no end, “but it tastes good, doesn’t it?” 

“It does. An excellent choice, Miss Rowley,” he licked from his cone again, wondering when had been the last time he had ice cream, and he couldn’t remember. As a kid? It was so long ago he’d been a kid. 

They strolled together through the park, toward the water, and when Randall spotted a boat, he bought all the tickets, so they were all alone on it. They both listened attentively to the facts and figures the boat captain told them over the intercom, speaking about London’s history and the meaning of the Thames for the city. 

“That was very interesting, I didn’t even know all this,” Bel said when Randall reached for her hand to help her get off the boat. 

“Me neither,” he’d never done a boat tour and was now surprised how rewarding it had been. “What do you say? Fancy dinner? At the Strand? And afterwards, I take you out to a play. My treat.”

Bel hesitated for a moment, only to remember Hector’s words, that she should let him take her out. As she was hungry and the afternoon had been a pleasant diversion, she agreed. Randall asked for a quiet corner in the restaurant, and they ordered a curry. 

After a bit of silence, Bel remembered the conversation they had the day before, “I wanted to apologise,” she began cautiously. 

“Apologise? What for?” 

“For what I said the day before.”

“You mean about me and my relationship to work,” Bel nodded. “There is no need to apologise, I am sure you had your reasons, and it’s not like you were the first to point it out.” 

“I mean; is it fun?” 

“Fun?” it sounded as if he had never heard of the word and its meaning, the expression of his - wiggling eyebrows, his mouth unsure if it wanted to be open or closed. It amused Bel. 

“What I meant is, of course, it’s important. No big company has been built on leisure, but you usually give the impression of always working.”

“I am always working!” Randall said, almost shocked. 

To Bel, it was as if he was defending himself and the way of living his life. It wasn’t hers to criticise people, but she sensed no one ever had pointed out that he might have missed something. “Do you never take a day off?” 

She could have asked for the colour of his underwear; the expression would have been the same, “What for?” 

Bel thought he tried to fool her at first before getting he meant what he just asked for real. “A walk in the park! A good book or a movie. Holidays. Leisure time… Life!” 

Taken aback Randall, didn’t know what to make of it all. 

Bel had sympathy, “In Paris, they never start before ten, and if so, it’s law there is a good cup of coffee at 9, no work-related talk.” 

“At nine? In the morning? Just?” he reached for his soda. “You are kidding!” 

She chuckled, “With croissants! Do you like croissants, Randall?” 

“I’ve never been to Paris, except when I flew once down to Barcelona for a meeting, I had to switch planes in Paris. I was there for not more than an hour.” 

“The French drink wine for lunch, and have biscuits for dinner,” she sighed, absorbed in her thoughts and memories. “I grieve for the croissant!” 

“The French are insane,” Randall leaned back against the backrest. “You do miss Paris, don’t you?” 

She looked into the distance, watching the waiter take some orders, “No, not yet, but I am sure I will.” 

Why would anyone miss a city? “What’s so different about Paris? What is there that is not also here in London? Tell me.” 

Bel thought about it, “The light is. The smell in the air. The buildings. The people. The food.”

“Everything, then,” he frowned, absently shuffling around the salt and pepper pots, “I don’t understand.” 

Bel could be sure this revelation wasn’t something he did often. “You should go and visit Paris, and I mean like any other sane person would do, spending actual time there. It would do you good. I am sure Paris would…,” she trailed off. 

Randall reached for her hand, touching her lightly, “What? What would Paris do for me?” 

That a man like him even wanted to know, aside being busy with so much more important things, gave her a pleasant feeling. It was as if he honestly cared, “Change you. Broaden your mind.” 

“Do I have to cut my hair too?” he joked then and again he touched her hand, only to reassure he didn’t mean it in a wrong way. “I don’t speak French.”

“You’ll learn it!” her hand came around his wrist if she could she would force him onto a plane to Paris right away.

“You are very peculiar, Bel,” Randall said, looking down at her hand around his wrist. 

Abashed, she retreated, “from you, it doesn’t sound like a compliment.” 

“No,” he agreed. “It’s meant as so much more.” 

The tone of his voice went straight to that one specific point in her belly. Spreading from there through all her body, which quickly surrendered into speechlessness. 

“Tell me, what do I have to do on my first day in Paris? Louvre? Eiffel Tower? Boat tour on the Seine?” 

“Don’t!” she relaxed again. “You need rain.” 

“Rain?” 

“Yes, rain! Then, afterwards, Paris smells at its best. And then you take a walk on the Montmartre, strolling by some cafés. That’s what you do on your first day.” 

Randall let the idea go round in his head for a bit, “what do I do when there is no rain?” 

Bel leaned back, as if the question was built on no base at all, “you are a clever man, Randall, and very rich, I am sure you can order yourself some rain.” 

They exchanged a knowing smile. Then Randall glanced at his watch, “Bel! I fear we missed the play; it’s already past 10. “

“Indeed, what a pity,” not that she cared. “So we better get home than.”

Randall nodded, paid the bill and then when they left, he reached for her arm, as if it were the most natural thing to do, escorting her outside. 

“Can I confess something?” she asked then after they had walked in silence for at least 15 minutes. 

“Please do.” 

“When I was a little kid, I was always afraid of you,” a serious matter back then, now she took it with the necessary humour. 

Randall did also, “Glad you kept that to yourself!” 

“I think they all were,” Bel went on, “afraid of you.”

Turning his head, he stopped staring at her, “I am well aware what they say about me.”

Bel felt guilty, biting the inside of her lip, “that you are the only living heart donor?” 

He was about to agree when his mind picked up with what she had told him, “What? No! I meant-”

“-oh, God,” to have told him something he shouldn’t have known, she covered her mouth in embarrassment. “Randall… I am… I am sure I mistook something…damn!” she turned once 360 degrees, screaming in silence when she was at 180 and smiled sheepishly at him when back to face him. “What is it that people say about you?”

Randall needed a moment, “That I always look worried,” he rose an eyebrow. 

“You do.”

“I don’t,” Randall quickly disagreed with her, looking worried. “I am just— oh, this can’t be all that they say about me, can it?”

Bel couldn’t hold back the laughter, reaching out for his arm, and he shook his head a smile on his face. “Whatever they say, right now, it seems like a misunderstanding.” 

They reached the car, and Randall opened the door for her, “That sounds like a compliment.”

“It is one,” she said, and they exchanged another glance before Randall started the engine. 

While driving out of town, Randall asked more about Paris, and Bel told him eagerly about it. It was a light chit-chat, and at some point, Randall lowered the speed down to 50mph. It would give them not more as five more minutes together in the car. Five more, he thought suddenly felt important. 

When Randall took the turn to the house, the lights bathed not only the entrance area with light but also Hector — standing there on crutches dressed in a striped dressing gown. 

“Look,” Randall brought Bel’s attention to his brother, stopping right in front of him. 

“Hey, folks!” he greeted them both. 

“Hector!” Bel smiled brightly, opening the door to get out of it so she could join him. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” 

“Yes, shouldn’t you?” agreed Randall stern with her, only to kept standing by the other side of the car. 

“I was just feeling to get out of it for a moment,” Hector explained, leaning toward Bel, “And Sissy told me on the phone you guys went for dinner and a play.”

“Just dinner,” Bel smirked. “We forgot the play over talking.”

“Gosh! Did he bore you with stock quotations and pricing stats for ink and paper for the past 15 years? Because that’s what he usually does over dinner,” Hector mocked delighted, pursing his lips at his brother with glee.

Randall tucked his tongue into his cheek, rolling his eyes slightly, but kept quiet.

“Actually,” Bel tucked at his dressing gown, “it was a very nice evening.”

“Do I have to get jealous?” Hector kept going in his mood. He’d been away from his usual human society way too long. “Oh, brother mine, just let me have some fun. You are way too busy with work to notice Bel anyway.”

All the while Randall looked at Bel holding her gaze, like a silent communication between them, excluding Hector, “We talked about travels. Anyway, good night!”

He locked the car and then was about to walk over to the house when he heard his name called by Bel. Raising an eyebrow, he turned.

“Thank you for the beautiful day,” she leaned forward, one hand on the edge of the car door, the other held by Hector, “It was… fun.”

“It was,” he nodded, his lips forming a brief smile. “Good night, Bel. Hector.”

“Hector?” she turned to him. “How was your brother when he was younger?”

Wondering about the question made him hobble around on the spot with his crutches, “shorter, I believe. Why?”

Bel looked into the direction Randall had vanished, “Nevermind.”

“You’re aware we never got the chance to have that drink in the winter garden?”

“No, you sent Randall instead,” the memory let her smile to herself. 

“We could catch up on it now,” Hector suggested enthusiastically. “I am sure I can find some champagne and a pair of paper cups. We dance, I hold you in my arms, kiss you!”

Admittingly she found his idea alluring, but it seemed not the moment and way too much effort as he was unable to walk without crutches anyway, “Just, kiss me here. Right now.”

Without waiting for another invitation, he bowed and kissed her, one arm cumbersome around her, holding her tight. “Like that?” he breathed his voice low. 

Bel hummed, “again.”

He did so again, “Is there something wrong? Are you worried? About us? Don’t be, when they have removed the stitches I’ll go and tell father and then we’ll run away. Let us talk.”

“Yes,” she pressed her head against his chest, listening to his heart for a while. “Let’s talk tomorrow. You need rest, and I am tired too. It was a long day. I think it’s better if you go back to bed.”

“I love that you are so sensible,” he chuckled balancing on the crutches. “Sleep tight.”

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flowers. A plan explained. A past discussed.

At the usual time, 07:30 am, Randall left to work. As always, George Rowley drove him in the luxurious Benz. Opening up the newspaper to check the latest stock market news, he inquired about Bel, “How is your daughter, George?”

“I only have seen her briefly today, Mister Brown, she told me she was unwell,” it wasn’t unusual that his boss indulged in a bit of small talk, but it was strange he asked for Bel.

“Unwell?” the newspaper dropped down into his lap. “What is it, a cold?”

“No, I don’t think so, Sir,” the father gasped slightly exaggerated, he wasn’t used to spill personal details about Bel to Randall. “You surely know how women sometimes can be. Happy in one moment, unwell in the next. I think that…”

“You think what, George? What’s with her?” Randall needed to know.

Shuffling in the driver’s seat as if a loose spring was poking him, George decided to approach the topic. There were 30 minutes left to drive, he rather not spend them in uneasy silence, “I think it’s the story with Hector. Since that stupid garden party — sorry, Sir — I told her it was no good flirting with your brother, but she didn’t want to listen to me. And then after she had spent the day with you, yesterday, there was something in her eyes, a sadness, but when I asked, she said everything was alright.”

“I see,” Randall mussed.

“You see, I don’t want her to be with Hector, but of course I won’t interfere, she is grown up,” George would have kept quiet then, but Randall didn’t let the topic rest.

“Why don’t you want her to be with Hector?”

“I am a chauffeur, Sir, and Bel will always be the daughter of a chauffeur, no matter what. You, Hector and your family, will always be businessmen,” he thought about stopping there. “I am old school, I don’t even deny it, but I grew up that our world and your world doesn’t go along together.”

“What do you think is best for her?”

George let another car pass by before answering, “I shouldn’t tell, but yesterday I thought; it might have been better Bel had stayed in Paris. It seemed the work was satisfying, and she’d be away from Hector. In Paris she would have found any other boy, more fitting for her,” another long sigh escaped the old man. “By all due respect, Sir, I know you want Hector to marry Miss Marnie because of the company merging. I want Hector to be with Marnie, and I see what you are trying to do with Bel, so she stays out of the way. Just… just promise me she won’t get hurt. She deserves happiness, Mister Brown.”

The man drove Randall since at least 15 years, and this was probably the most extended and most personal talk they ever had. Fifteen years without any complaint or mistake, alone for that Randall knew he owed him the integrity of his daughter, “I get you, George. I promise.”

For the rest of the way, he tried reading the newspaper, but couldn’t concentrate on anything but Bel Rowley. The conversation they had the day before and the promises he had given to Lix, and now her father gave him a hard time.

“Sally, would you please send some flowers to Miss Rowley?” Randall told his assitent over the intercom. And like five seconds later, the short secretary had entered his office and stood in front of his desk.

“Flowers, Sir?” she looked at him inquiringly.

“Yes, Sally, Flowers,” he wondered what was up with his staff, “That’s those-”

“I know what flowers are,” interrupted Sally gently, “my Boyfriend sends me some every week. What I meant, what kind of flowers? Roses?”

“Roses?” now he became aware that he wasn’t the smartest in the room regarding such problem, “Uhm, no. That might be a bit too much.”

“How about sunflowers, Sir?” she suggested knowing he was lost.

His face lit up, “Sunflowers! Yes, make it sunflowers.”

She noted it down onto her pad, “how many?”

He stared at her, now it got complicated for him, “How many, let’s see,” he fixed one of the last chairs with his eyes trying to get a revelation.

“How about a dozen, Sir?”

He had recruited Sally not for nothing, “Brilliant!”

“When was the last time you send flowers to a woman, Sir?”

“You are my secretary, you must know,” he said back in the same playful tone. Sally knew how to treat him, even when it seemed respectless.

“I do know,” she smirked pursing her lips, writing down some more on her pad, “a dozen sunflowers to Miss Rowley, very nice Sir!”

“That be all, Sally,” he nodded. “Oh, and Sally..”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” he bowed slightly, and she bowed back, a happy expression on her face.

When it knocked at his door, he knew it could only be Lix, as he had told Sissy no one shall disturb him, as he wanted to read over the contract for the company merge one more time. Only Lix Storm was brazen enough to ignore that order.

“I told Sissy, the only reason to disturb me is a fire. So, I guess the building is burning down, and we are all about to die?” he placed the papers aside leaning back in his stool, scrutinising her over the rim of his glasses.

“To be honest, when there would be a fire, I am not sure if I’d tell you,” Lix winked brushing his complaint away in her usual behaviour. “You look tired, darling.”

“I am tired,” he admitted, about to drink from his coffee, but the cup was empty already.

“Well, from what I’ve heard, it’s no wonder.”

“Can a man have no secrets anymore?” Of course, he knew Lix knew he had been out and about with Bel.

“Nope,” she went to take his cup away, to refill it with coffee from the pot in the kitchenette. “So it’s Bel and you now?”

Randall rose from his chair, stepping around the desk to the large conference table, “Hector has asked me to keep her busy, while he is laying in his sickbed, that’s all.”

Lix gave him his coffee, not without throwing him a meaningful look, “Never thought of you as accommodator. So, Randall, don’t lie, what’s up with that?”

“You know exactly what’s up, so why tell you?” he retorted.

“Because it’s more fun hearing the story from you,” she took one of the big chairs the chairman usual sat in, and slumped into it, arms on the rests, one leg over the other. “Humour me! For old times’ sake!”

Randall considered. Lix would keep everything to herself; she was as trustworthy as a confessor. Maybe the only chance to get the plan of his chest.

“Hector is a fool; you know that as much as I know it. He’d never marry Bel, and even if so, he’d leave her two months later for another girl he has picked up in the street. He’s best with Marnie, and she knows what she wants, she keeps him close-”

“-and she has money.”

“Yes, damn yes!” out of the blue Randall got angry. All those years of him working hard from early too late, while his brother did nothing at all. “My way of living guarantees not only my staff an income, but it also guarantees my brother his lifestyle. It’s payback time. Him being so careless is ruining all the work we’ve put into this merge. No more than 24 hours after Bel returns from Paris and this idiot wants to tell me he has fallen in love with her? Like honestly?”

“It happens I suppose,”

“Hector falls in love, so very often, I doubt he knows what love even is!” he barked.

Lix never got much impressed when Randall got angry once in a year, “And you know?”

He snapped for air, his thunder stolen now, “This is not about me.”

“You went on a couple of dates with Bel,” Lix brought him back to the actual topic, “to be blunt, I think it is totally about you. What is your plan?”

“I am on a little export business here,” Randall revealed. “I asked her about Paris and… god, I don’t know how we got there, but I think she thinks I’ll want to go to Paris, and by now I am sure she will come with me when I ask her.”

Lix leaned so far into the backrest that it made a sound as if it would break off soon, “You do what?”

Turning away from her to go back to his desk, he placed his hand onto the edges, his upper body bowed down, “I won’t repeat myself.”

Lix jumped up, “The company merge!” then the penny dropped. “Oh, damn you!”

“What are you expecting me to do? Mh? Bel is in better hands in Paris, far away from Hector. I’ll ask her, she’ll come, and before she realises I am not on the train, it’s too late.”

“Couldn’t you have solved this differently? How about money these days? It’s not like you haven’t any.”

“I tried,” he laughed sarcastically. “Bel doesn’t want money; she wants love.”

“Good girl. Remember, you promised not to hurt her!”

“On the long term, it’s about growing up, not about getting hurt, Lix,” he bit his lip so hard he thought it must bleed, before turning around to Lix who stared at him with a frosty gaze.

“Tell me one thing, Randall,” her light tone was gone, and there was no more mood left to banter, “have you become this man because I left you all those years ago?”

“We both know you left me because I was that man already,” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You were simply gracious enough to let me believe I was a better version of myself.”

Lix’s hands held each other, “Maybe I was.”

Letting his hand brush over his temples, to check his hair and then his tie, he went for a glass of water, “Can I ask you something?”

“You can.”

“Should I have fought more, when you left me? Would you have expected that from me?” While he drank, he watched her wonder about his question.

“That is sort of a question that doesn’t fit your mentality, Randall.”

“Just answer it, please.”

“It’s twenty years now,” Lix sighed. “We’ve been different people back then. No, I don’t think so. Why? Why you are asking this?”

“Bel asked me,” his right foot was shuffling around as if he was grinding a butt under his heel, while he leaned against the counter, “and I don’t know why.”

There Lix understood what he couldn’t, but she kept it to herself, “Randall?”

“Mh?”

“Freddy has asked me to marry him, and I’ve said yes,”

“My congratulations, Lix, that’s...,” lost for words, he went over hugging her. “I am happy for you. You deserve happiness.”

“No, Randall, you deserve happiness,” she kissed him on the cheek. “Tread carefully when it comes to Bel. Tread carefully!”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone in this story actually keeping promises?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the fairytale collapse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I wanted this chapter to be one long with the section before. I realised this is an important chapter and should be on its own.

The phone rang, and Randall picked up. It was Sally who told him it was Bel in the line, “Put her through, please,” the line went dead for a moment when he heard background noises, “Hello? Bel?”

“Randall! Hello.”

“How are you? Your father told me you felt unwell the day before,” his fingertips absently wandered back and forth over the desk matt.

“Yes,” was all she said at first, sounding tense. “You sent me flowers.”

The mentioning made Randall smile, “Sunflowers, yes. Did you like them?”

“Very much.”

The silence and brief conversation told him something was going on or worst; wrong.

“Where are you? Are you in London by any chance?”

“Why you are asking?” Bel sighed, regretting her reaction. Now he knew she definitely was in London, and something was up, “yes, I am.”

“How about we meet?” he suggested, and she hesitated. “For lunch.”

“I am not sure if this is a good idea, Randall,” she scolded herself. It hadn’t been her best idea to call. “I only wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

He hummed, gauging the situation and his possibilities, “Did you? You could have made that phone call from home, instead of driving all the way downtown.”

He had a point; she’d admit that. With a sigh, she signalled his match point, “I walked around London all day, thinking.”

“About what?”

“Everything.”

“That’s a hell of a thinking,” he smirked, his fingertips feeling out the edge of his desk now.

She couldn’t help but chuckle, “True.”

Then Randall had a hunch, “are you phoning from the lobby?”

“N-no… Yes,” she considered hitting her head with the receiver. “How do you know?”

“There are things I just know,” he said. “When I ask you to come upstairs, would you?”

“I assume when I say no, you’ll come downstairs?” she retorted watching the elevators she could see out of the little booth she was in.

“Quite so,” he gave her a few seconds to make up her mind. “Okay, I’m coming down now.”

“No!” she stopped him. “I’ll come upstairs. You win.”

He heard the line go dead then.

Randall wandered up and down in front of the large conference desk, unsure of what to expect from the conversation. He was tense, nervous, and he couldn’t tell what that feeling was in his stomach. He stopped walking when hearing the knock, “come in.”

When Bel popped her head in, he gestured her to come in. She was wearing a dark blue dress; he’d never seen on her. But there were so many things he hadn’t seen with her before. “Hello, Bel.”

“Hello,” she closed the door and kept standing in a safe distance to him. To bridge the awkward moment she looked around in his office, not that there was anything new.

“Do you want a drink? Or Tea? Coffee?” Randall walked over to the counter.

“No, I don’t think I want something,” Bel still stood by the door.

Randall grasped the situation, “Why don’t you take a seat, and we talk about whatever is bothering you?”

Her behaviour was ridiculous; she knew, “I am sorry, I am acting silly again.”

He smirked, her words an excellent assist, “Not silly, childish maybe, and we already agreed, it makes no sense in being grown-up when you can’t be childish sometimes.”

That got her, and she went over to one of the chairs, one hand on the backrest, “A week ago I was still in Paris. It feels like it’s been ages. So many things have happened this week.”

“I can imagine, it was a busy week for you,” he went up to her, to one of the other chairs. “Is it about Hector? I thought he would get his stitches out in the afternoon; he should be fine then.”

Bel let her flat hands feel out the cold of the table’s surface, “It’s not about Hector, at least not particularly.”

“I see,” Randall turned and walked over to the full window front. His office had a beautiful view of the Thames.

Bel watched his back unsure what he expected from her, uncertain if he would say something first, “That’s a beautiful view you have there.”

Hands in pockets he let his eyes follow the course of the river, “I’ve heard Paris also has admirable scenery to watch. I’ve heard, there is a way that goes all alongside the Seine, past all the many bridges,” he had read about it in a guidebook. Sissy had to acquire it for him in a bookshop, “and when you found your favourite, you are supposed to get coffee and a newspaper and return to it.” He turned, looking at her reaction.

“Yes,” she lowered her gaze with a sad expression. “So, it’s true then,” she walked over to Randall. The troubles which had bothered her out of nowhere the day before were about to become real. “You’ll leave for Paris.”

He stepped up to her, “It’s your fault,” he added a smile, “you made me overthink a lot of things, in the past days. I work too much, and don’t live at all.”

“When?”

He hesitated, “there is a train leaving tomorrow morning, at 11.”

Instead of being happy, she looked at him with sorrow, “That’s very soon.”

“You said, Paris is always a good idea.”

“It is, and you will love Paris, I am sure,” then she lowered her gaze again, turning away from him, “I didn’t think…”

He reached out for her, “tell me.”

“I didn’t think it affected me so much. You; leaving.” It had torn at her heart all day and all night long without knowing why. Without understanding what was wrong with her. Hector had offered her the world; she should be happy about it; instead, she was about to miss a man she only had met a couple of days ago — really had met.

He saw tears forming at the corner of her eyes. With everything he had planned with a lot but not tears and mostly not this nagging feeling inside his chest that told him it was all too dirty trick, he was about to play.

He reached for his handkerchief, giving it to her, and then she did what she shouldn’t do and what he shouldn’t allow because it made all his plans crumble — throwing herself into his arms. Bel Rowley was always good for a surprise and always in for a proper goodbye hug.

The gesture let his heart sink. And besides, he was about to shove Bel away gently, he found himself leaning into the hug, his face pressed against her head while she silently sobbed into the crook of his neck. What did Bel Rowley smell like? He was sure it was like a chestnut tree in Paris when it was raining.

“I am making a fool out of myself,” she whispered and Randall used the moment to take her by the shoulders, making her look at him.

“No, I am making a fool out of myself,” and added grievously, “and you.”

Bel frowned at the sound of his voice, “what do you mean?”

“I…,” he took her arms which were still on his shoulders away, “I am sorry, Bel. I lied.”

“You lied?” she stepped away so she could look better at him.

“Everything I said to you... from the moment I brought the champagne into the winter garden.” The words weren’t said as easy as it seemed, but this was something else he had to discuss with himself one night.

“I can’t believe that, Randall,” she shuddered while processing his words, taking them into account to the few dates, the spoken words while them.

“Then I am obviously a better liar, as I thought,” he admitted. “Back in the winter garden, you remember what you said to me?”

“I said many things to you.”

“You said, I bet you have this all planned out,” the pieces of the puzzle now put together, Bel glared at him in shock, “and you were right. I was sent to deal with you. I sent myself.”

“Just because Hector wasn’t allowed to love a chauffeurs daughter?”

“It’s not about it. There was a marriage. There was a merger, and you got in the way.”

“So, what was your plan then?”

“Ask you to come with me to Paris, then leave,” Randall felt his stomach turn, but he ignored it. “Hector would return to Marnie, marry her, the merger would happen, many money made.”

“I see,” was all she could say. How stupid to believe she had grown up in Paris, how foolish to imagine the prince in shining armour would show.

Randall went to his desk and pulled out the tickets for the train and the ferry, “there would have been an apartment. And a bank account.”

“How much?”

“500.000 Francs.”

“Your first offer was better.” She could have it all if she asked for.

“I don’t want your money,” Bel walked up to him, taking the tickets from his hands, reading them through. The train left at 11 am, the ferry then would take her to France and another train to Paris. She’d be there in the late evening. She took the ticket that had her name on it, and gave Randall the other back, “It must have been so much trouble for you, showing me around in Kensington, the boat tour, the restaurants and so.”

“It wasn’t. I am sorry.”

“I know you are,” she shrugged. “Funny, I thought you… oh, never mind.”

“You thought what?” he made a single step toward her.

It was time to leave, and so she walked to the door, and Randall knew there was nothing he could do to stop her. He deserved it.

Hand on the handle, against all she turned once more, letting her eyes wander through the office and stopped when she reached Randall, “I am sure you would have been happy in Paris. Goodbye, Randall.”

For at least five minutes Randall just stood there, holding the ticket Bel had given him back in hand, unable to do something besides letting his mind race.

“Sir?” Sissy had come in without his notice. “You alright?”

Surprised, he looked at her, “No.”

“Shall I call a Doctor?”

Randall looked back at the tickets, “No. I want you to take those tickets, get them transferred to Hector Madden. And call the Redboroughs. I want a meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Sir.”

There was not much he could do, but at least he could try to keep a promise.

  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel will go back to Paris, the question is, will she go alone?

It was already late when Bel began packing for the next day.

“I am sorry, darling,” her father sat in the armchair across her bed, worried lines on his forehead.

“You don’t have to be,” she smiled peacefully at him. “Nothing of this is your fault.”

“I still don’t understand. At first Hector, then Randall, and now you leave, without any of them.”

Bel hadn’t told her father everything. There was no need and nothing would come of it except he’d be angry or disappointed, “You wanted me to be in Paris anyway, I am not stupid. Paris made me happy, and it will make me happy again. So, don’t worry.”

“Will you say goodbye, to the others,” he meant the staff of the house. They were all friends, and they all had asked about her well being in Paris. “I am sure they would all want to give you a last hug.”

“True, I will.”

She finished her packing while her father decided it was time for him to leave her alone, then Bel went to the staff kitchen, where she knew would all their friends sit for a vespertine chat. They knew of course, as her father had prepared them, and so it was not a long story. She promised to write, the usual phrases, the usual goodbyes. 

Knowing Randall hadn’t returned from town, as her father had told her he wasn’t called to pick him up yet, she guessed he would come back late, and she could walk around freely in the main house without meeting him.

Therefore she came by the billiard room, finding Hector there. When he saw her, he spread his arms, pacing over, “Bel! I was looking for you, where have you been all day? I thought; we wanted to talk?”

“I was in London,” she said tersely. 

Hector let air stream out of his lungs almost exaggerating, “You’ve been in London quite often these days. I thought we do a two-person stitches revival party. Just you and—”

“— I was with Randall.”

This was the moment, even Hector understood. 

“I was making my goodbyes.”

There was some disappointment visible, Bel noticed. She saw he was able to walk again and was back in his old spirit, the spirit she had fallen in love with all those many years ago, “Can you imagine, I won a train ticket to Paris,” she faked a smile.

“You did?” the insight that it was a one-way ticket for just one person snowballed. 

He walked over to her, reaching for her hands, “I know I am not very reliable. I am not stupid, but with you, I thought it could have worked out. Tell me why?”

The question made her laugh up sadly, “Oh, Hector!”

He grabbed her arm before she could walk away, “‘Oh, Hector’ what?”

“Don’t you understand?”

“I wouldn’t ask then.”

Bel leaned in, for a gentle kiss on his cheek, her hand on the other, “The chauffeur’s daughter. Goodbye, Hector.”

Seeing her go affected Hector, but not as much as he thought it would and it made him aware what kind of game he had played unintentional with Bel. He also understood that the game he had played was minor to the one his brother was apparently playing. 

Reaching for a glass of whiskey, he decided to wait. He had never been a patient man, but for his brother, he took the patience to play billiards for another two hours till Randall’s car showed up in the driveway. 

“Randall!” Hector had deliberately waited inside for him, drinking his third glass of whiskey by now.

“Hector!” he glanced down at the watch. “Still up? I see your stitches have been taken out. How are you?” Randall placed his suitcase and hat onto a chair.

“I am perfectly fine. I actually have a surprise for you!” 

It was too late for Randall to hide his exasperation with his brother. He huffed exhausted, “That’s the problem with you, Hector, there will come a day; there is one surprise too many with you.” 

“This is worth the surprise, believe me.” 

The blow hit Randall unexpected, and so hard only the billiard table stopped him from falling backwards. The punch was hard, not as relentless as it could be, but definitely with less mercy, as expected from a brother. It had been a while Hector and Randall had a row or a fight, so it was a bit of a shock to Randall, but he could guess quickly what it was for.

“I knew you could be ruthless when it comes to business, but to your own brother, to Bel! Shame on you!” Hector shouted. 

Randall checked if his jaw was still in place, “Listen!”

“No, you listen! How could you do this to her and me? What the hell makes you think you had the right to do this?”

“Habit,” Randall’s ears rang. “I know it was wrong. I only wanted the best for everyone. For you. For Bel. For The Hour. It didn’t work out. At least not the way I wanted it. It doesn’t matter anymore, because I want you to go to Paris. With Bel.”

Hector had prepared a whole speech in which he wanted to disgrace his brother, but now he was lost, “You want me to do what? What’s with the marriage, the merger?”

“Forget about it,” Randall gestured. “Bel is in love with you all her life; it’s you who she wants. And you want her too, so go, pack your bags and leave with her tomorrow.”

Hector considered he might have hit his brother a bit too hard, “You would let go of a million pounds and many more for Bel?”

Randall looked broken, “You never wanted to marry just for the sake of it anyway, so better run for it. For Bel.”

Hector hesitated, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Randall kept with one hand his balance at the table, the other was still rubbing his face. “Just go!”

And Hector left, not for packing, but to the next telephone, “Marnie? I need to talk to you.”

The Redborough family had been on time, and Randall only wanted to wait another couple of minutes to make sure the train with Bel and Hector had left. Nothing could stop the couple now.

“So, what is the urgent matter, you called us all in, Randall?” Marnie’s father, Thomas, wanted to know. His daughter was sitting by his side, reading in a catalogue about decoration goods for weddings, “We should wait for Hector.”

Randall wondered if he should have asked Sissy to get some smelling salts, “I don’t think we have to.”

“Why not?” Thomas asked.

Marnie waved at him without taking her eyes out of the magazine, “You know how he is, always late.”

“Late? Understatement of the year,” Randall muttered under his breath, walking over to the window front. The train had surely left by now. Hector and Bel, happily ever after. “Anyway, the reason why I asked you all to come… it’s about the merger and the wedding.”

“What’s with the merger? And what is about the wedding?” Thomas Redborough jumped up from his stool. “Where the hell is Hector.”

“Hector is—”

The door to the office went open, a good-humoured Hector entering with a spring in his step, “— is here! Hello folks! Good to see you all!” he went over to Marnie, kissing her, “Darling, I am sorry I am late.”

Randall thought to see a ghost, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“There is a meeting, I thought I come,” he grinned at his older brother.

“You shouldn’t be here!” Randall exclaimed. “You should be on the train. With Bel!”

“Who?” Thomas asked but got no response.

“Bel? Oh, I saw her in the morning,” Hector did as if it was tough to remember, “she gave me a kiss and made her goodbyes.”

“You were supposed to go with her!” 

“With who?” Thomas asked again.

“Bel!” Marnie explained and earned a puzzled look from Randall.

“Was I?” Hector repeated, like a schoolboy who denied his involvement into some shenanigans. 

“Yes!” Randall was lost, and in panic, “Why? She is all alone now.”

Finally, Hector pitied with him, “Because I am not the man she wants.”

“Who?” a third time asked.

“Bel!” this time, Randall and Hector answered in unison. 

“Who the hell is this Bel?” by now Redborough was at the end with his patience.

“Just the chauffeur’s daughter,” Hector said in a dismissing voice. 

“Don’t speak of her like that,” Randall raised a finger as a warning. 

Hector pushed his finger playfully away, “At first she was after me. And I admit I was after her, but then she switched to Randall, probably because he has more money. We all know about those kinds of women, don’t we, Randall? Bel Rowley is no different!”

Payback time. The stroke of Randall’s fist let Hector almost fall back onto the table. 

“See!” Hector ducked away slightly, afraid his brother might try once more. 

“See what? God damn it, what is going on here?” Marnie placed a hand onto her father’s shoulder.

“He loves her; he loves Bel!” Hector explained now for everyone; he even explained it to Randall in a certain way. “Sissy!”

The secretary appeared, and Randall asked what was going on. 

“Is he packed?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sissy dropped a black bag beside the door.

“That’s my bag!”

“Of course it is,” Hector pulled out some papers he had in his jacket. “You have to sign this.”

“I am signing nothing!” Randall protested.

Tugging at his arm, Hector said, “You will, and you know why?”

“Why?”

“There is a car waiting, getting you to the airport. There is a plane waiting, well not waiting, but anyway, it leaves in an hour, and gets you to Paris,” Hector explained his stupid brother. 

“Paris,” slowly the world revealed its potential to Randall.

“When you are lucky, you arrive there before her,” Hector specified. “But before you leave, you have to sign this. Give the authorisation to complete the merger. Make me the Head of The Hour.”

“You? Why you?”

Hector let his head wobble from left to right, “Because you don’t have a third sibling and I am a matter of fact not that stupid as how you assume. You are sending me all the books and memos in copy for years. Do you think I can’t read?” Randall gaped like a fish looking around helplessly. “I got this, Randall. I got Marnie, and she definitely got it!”

“He is right, Randall,” Marnie joint her fiance. “He told me all about it. Sign it. Go to Paris. Get happy.”

“She must absolutely hate me!”

Hector urged the pen into his hand, “She’ll get over it, as we will all do.”

He grabbed the pen and signed, “I better go.”

“You better run for it!” they exchanged a silent nod, only siblings would understand, “Good luck, brother mine!”

Randall staggered back to the door, reaching for his bag, “When you all excuse me, I have an urgent meeting,” and then he stormed out of the room, to the elevator. 

It was perfectly timed, when Randall paced around the corner, the door of the elevator went open, and he not only ran into the metal cabin but also into Lix. 

“Is there a fire I don’t know about?” she teased. “Or where are you going?”

“Going down,” he breathed, his pulse going 160. “Well, actually, I am going to Paris.” 

A knowing smile played around Lix’s lips, “Mh, guessed that already. What? Who do you think helped Sissy pack that bag?” 

“So you know?” he asked.

“Since you laid out your stupid little plan in front of me,” she gave it a long sigh, looking at him, one arm akimbo, the other holding a cigarette. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

She chuckled, indulging with him, “Because you needed to get to it by yourself, darling.” 

The elevator arrived at the lobby. Randall knew he had to run when he wanted to get to the plane. On the other hand, there was a story right there in front of him, that needed one last sentence to be finished, “When’s the marriage?” 

Lix dragged him with her toward the exit, “Spring, why?” 

“It’s on me, I’ll send a check, don’t argue!” he flashed her a grin. And she reached out to his hand, squeezing it.

It could be a hundred years; there would always be a part in her heart where she would always love him. And vice versa. Randall knew that. Freddie and Bel anyway.

“May I kiss the bride?” he leaned in, capturing her lips, long enough to give it a meaning, short enough to make it a sentiment. 

She laughed with joy, watching him run to his limousine, “Reckless.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For me, it felt important to wrap up the sub-storyline of Randall and Lix. I always shipped them as pairing from the past. History and sadness. In the show, so I felt, too much had happened to get them back together as lovers. In this story, there is also a history never to be explained, but I wanted to wrap it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris. It's all you need to know.

It had been a long and agonising train ride to Paris. 

Bel had promised herself not to cry — unable to keep it. Four times the emotions ran her over, making her sniff into her handkerchief. That it was the one of Randall would have been let into a fifth run, when the train wouldn’t have arrived that very moment in Paris. It was late.

The only good thing about the long hours on the train had helped to sort thoughts, to finally bring some order into the chaos. Not only of the past week but the chaos her whole life seemed to have existed in. 

Aside, it had all been relatively easy. She had been in love with Hector all her life. Love that blinded her for the many flaws he possessed. It hadn’t been Hectors fault; he had never done anything into her direction, only when she had come back from Paris. 

On board the ship to France, over the canal, she had finally understood that she had been no different to all those stupid girls Hector had brought into the winter garden — except the snickering maybe. She was good with news; she was a good journalist; she would have been an excellent Head of Editor; there was no doubt about it in her. The problem was; love always had been her Achilles heel. 

Her father, a man who had chosen to become a chauffeur, so he had time to read. He read to her when she was a child, stories about knights and princesses, about kingdoms and fairytales, about love that always outruns the bad.

“Love always wins,” he used to read to her, and because he sensed at some point, that Bel was way too receptive for fairytales, he stopped telling her some. It had been too late; she had fallen for Hector.

And then she had fallen for Randall. It had taken her not much more like 48 hours, to feel those feelings that always leat to love. Randall Brown, the only living heart donor, the stern businessman. Constantly concentrated on keeping the Hour running. Always in the office, never home. What got her was, that she had those feelings for him besides she knew all those flaws. 

At least Randall had given her the dignity of withdrawing from his actual plan. It still hurt, because when she knew one thing, then that Randall Brown was not actually a liar. 

In the end, it didn’t matter anymore, she thought, stepping out of the train, going for a cab, that would bring her to her old apartment. Bel Rowley wasn’t the princess she always had considered herself. And there wasn’t a prince coming for her either. 

A lie too big she had told herself all her life. It was time to wake up; it was time to get going. A promise she made to herself, and she repeated it over and over again. And when the cabby thanked her for the payment, she was ready to be back home.

Summer in Paris. When Randall fell out of the plane at the airport Charles de Gaulles, it was late afternoon, and it had been raining. In the air, there was the scent of chestnut and wet grass, something he had never perceived in London. As it probably didn’t exist that way. 

He had tried to eat something on the plane but was only able to eat half a piece of bread. Way too nervous, he must have looked, as the stewardess asked him at least twice if everything was okay, and if this was his first flight with a plane. 

Getting away from the airport wasn’t the problem, the problem was his horrid french. Not that he had any other way to go, so Randall wrote down the street where he wanted to go, and the driver finally got where he wanted to go. 

He had never cared where exactly Bel had lived during her two years in Paris, and she had declined the apartment he had offered her. In the end, George Rowley saved him from ringing every doorbell in Paris, telling him his daughter’s address. Not before telling him his honest opinion about him. Faithful driver aside, he was her father and therefore right to voice his opinion, and Randall accepted that.

There was a little park across the street, where the apartment was supposed to be, not that he was sure as there was no name under the doorbell. In the park was a bench, and so he did the only thing he could — wait, on that bench. He was checking his wristwatch every ten minutes, trying to get the words in his confused head into some order. 

The train must have reached Paris, he thought and began looking up and down the street as if he really would recognise Bel sitting in a black cab. 

It took hours, it felt like years, but then, finally, a cab held in front of the building and Randall rose trying to see who was getting out of the car.

Bel.

The cabby took her suitcases out of the trunk, thanked her with tipping his hat and went back to his car. Randall walked closer to the other side of the street. It had been a long day; she looked tired. And sad. 

When she began to search for her keys, he knew he had to make himself known, so he stepped closer, clearing his throat.

Slightly startling, Bel turned around, expecting just a late stroller. Seeing the familiar silhouette, made her gasp, one hand landing on her chest, “Randall?”

“You said Paris is always a good idea.”

“And you said it was all a lie.”

Not even with a week, the words would never get into the right order he wanted to have them. This made him angry for a second, till he understood, it wasn’t necessary to plan it all out, “I thought it was all a lie, till I realised it wasn’t. Till I understood that every word I said to you, was true.”

Her whole life had turned upside down and back within one week. It was almost too much to bear. How was she supposed to react to him?

“Your father told me I don’t deserve you,” went on. “And I agree with him.”

She imagined it an awkward drive to the airport for Randall, “My father is a clever man.”

“Yes, his daughter comes after him.”

Not that she would let him off the hook with some cheap compliments, but she did not want to make it go unnoticed when she smirked, “What else did he say?”

“He said, when she is smart, she hits you over the head with some flowers for the way you treated her.”

Biting her lower lip to suppress a laugh, she said, “My father always had a hang for the dramatic. Did he say how the scene ends?”

“No,” Randall swallowed nervously, “I told him that I need you, and I never needed anything in my life. I promised to make you happy.”

“How can I be sure you mean it?”

“Because you are the one person who knows me best because deep down, you simply know I love you.”

Bel stepped closer, “You are a fool, Randall.”

A nervous laugh escaped him. When she’d send him away, he wouldn’t know what to do next. His brother was the new Head of The Hour, he was lost in Paris, and 99% sure he wouldn’t be able to order some croissants and must starve, “I am.” 

He had asked the cab to stop when he had seen a flower shop in the corner of his eye. They were generic because he hadn’t known the word for sunflowers. 

“I brought the flowers anyway,” a smile on his lips that betrayed his knowledge of him being a colossal idiot.

With a giggle, Bel took the flowers, holding them against her nose, looking then at him, “The man who brings me flowers.”

“The girl from Paris.”

And then, Bel knew she had arrived, at home, the place to be happy. Not alone, not this time. Opening her heart, smiling brightly at him, Bel threw her arms around his neck, kissing him. 

And Randall kissed her back, held her close and made the promise never to let her go again, because finally, after all those years, he had found a home too.

Fin. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story, I'd appreciate any comment or kudo!
> 
> This is also where I said I would ramble about why and so I wrote this story. And in case you care, keep reading.  
Let's be honest, when having watched Sabrina I thought "this needs fanfiction!" but the problem with the movie is, with the storyline, it is already perfect. Girl falls for the younger brother, younger brother shall marry another girl. Older brother intervenes, older brother falls for the girl but doesn't get it till the very end. Sabrina is some sort of fanfiction on its own. You can't make it better! That's why I only found like 8 stories and read none of it because you can't rewrite Sabrina.  
What I could do, was retelling it with characters I care for, I ship and then I couldn't stop myself. This thing wrote itself. It's not the big thing, it was just a story I needed to get out of my system and that made me happy writing it. (I wrote it within a week) And maybe it makes some readers happy reading it.  
It was hard giving justice to the character on the show and the movies. I had to alter some character traits so I could write this story how it was supposed to be.  
This story has flaws, I am well aware of it, but when we look at a fairytale in general, every fairytale has some major flaws. You need those, so it works out in the end. Think about it.  
Oh, well, that's just me.  
Thank's for reading. Till the next one.


End file.
